Bound by Shadows
by mistymay951
Summary: "She remembers when life was as simple as running away from home, when the only threat to her humanity was the unforgiving boredom and loneliness that surrounded her compound, and why the hell would she sacrifice all that because now she looks in the mirror and sees the bags under her eyes, sees the way her legs have never been so useless, and she is broken." Part 2/3 now up
1. Chapter 1

She remembers when life was as simple as running away from home, when the only threat to her humanity was the unforgiving boredom and loneliness that surrounded her compound, and why the hell would she sacrifice all that because now she looks at the mirror and sees the bags under her eyes, sees the way her legs have never been so useless, and the world doesn't even need her, not really, not when they have a nation of airbenders to look after them.

And maybe Amon and Unalaq and Zaheer were right, maybe the time of the avatar is long gone, and she, as a whole, is useless to the world she's created because she is no longer the bridge between two dimensions, and if only she had realized this before.

_What's next?_

_Because how much more can the world break her before she shatters completely?_

She isn't even safe in her own mind because the memories are just so vivid, and sometimes, she dreams of Zaheer breathing down her neck and staling her air, and it all happens so fast as she jolts up in bed a scream stuck in the depths of her throat, and even though she knows it's just a dream, the world is turning too fast, and the bile in her stomach is rising because she's sure he's lurking somewhere ready to end her life.

Tenzin says it's normal to be scared, but is it normal to avoid sleep, to sit up at night and stare at the ceiling for hours at a time just to avoid the nightmares that inevitably come crashing down around her?

This is habit for her now, to memorize the lines in the ceiling until eventually she succumbs to the weight around her. More often than not it's Zaheer, other nights, Amon, and sometimes, sometimes it's her.

One night, it's worse; it's too much. She's looking into a mirror, forced to face herself, to face her broken and useless body, disgusted by the way her legs, although supporting her weight, can't move, can't even bend. But then Amon appears behind her, hand winding tightly into her hair, forcing her head back and meeting her eyes in the mirror, saying something about equality as his other hand toys with the exposed skin on her neck_: silly Avatar, silly, silly girl._

But he doesn't take her bending, usually that's how his dreams end, and really, it's almost a relief when it's gone because then at least she can wake up, but this time he just stands there and whispers twisted words into the world around them until she's smothered by the sound of his threats. His voice grows louder and louder and eventually, she can't even understand what he's saying, and everything is so distorted that she thinks maybe this is what hell feels like, but then she blinks, and Unalaq is behind them, leaning over her and Amon like a proud captor, blotting out the edges of the mirror, smiling like he knows the world was never hers to save anyway, face contorting beautifully, until his head throws back and Vatu rises from him laughing, laughing, laughing.

_It's almost over, she thinks, this is where I die, this is where I wake up in cold sweats and try to remember who I was to begin with._

But not yet. Not until her reflection morphs into Zaheer's calculating form, his body stepping through the glass, positioning himself mere inches from her body. Everything in her says to run, to bend, to do something, but she's frozen, and he smiles like he knows as his hands twitch and her breathing fumbles, and she can practically feel her lungs collapsing in on themselves as their words beat her to the ground.

..

.

_I am the solution._

_._

_.._

_._

_You are not the bridge, not anymore._

_._

_.._

_._

_Because the time of the Avatar is over._

_._

_.._

_._

_And really, the world no longer needs you, Korra._

_._

_So die, bitch._

Her back spasms and her body jerks upright as the scream rips from the recesses of her throat, and nothing makes sense because if it was just a nightmare then why does everything seem so real, and she swears she can hear Zaheer's laugh from the depths of her bedroom, waiting, watching, ready to strike, to finish the job while her bending is at its weakest. Her palm raises shakily, a weak flame cupped in her finger, and even though there's nothing hiding in the corners, she can still hear him cackling, and it just gets louder and louder until she can't take it anymore and her hands fly to her ears and her body rolls in on herself and anything to get rid of his fucking voice because she's sure he's right behind her hands ready to strike, to kill, but all she can really do is rock and wait and take in shaking breaths that turn into cries of terror, tears trailing down her scarred cheeks.

_Because who will even miss me, now?_

She doesn't hear the door open, doesn't see the way a messy-haired, wide-eyed Mako's breath hitches as he runs across the room and grabs her tear-stained face between his hands and begs her to see him, but she isn't seeing anything anymore, blinded by the fear bubbling in the back of her throat.

"Kor," he tries to reason, fingers brushing against her cheeks, but his hands are burning her, and in a moment or terror she spits weak flames towards his face. He ducks and makes up his mind; before she can hurt herself, he slaps her, palm hitting her skin hard, and in a moment of clarity, her eyes focus, and she sees him, face stern, eyes sad, staring at her like she's crazy as her body slumps forward and the tears continue to fall.

Because_, he was here, Mako; I could hear him laughing and waiting, and he's going to come back for me I know it!_

And he's not really sure what to say because this is Korra; this is the girl who proclaimed she wasn't afraid of anything, and foolishly, he began to believe that she was invincible, but here she is, body broken, soul shattered, utterly consumed by her inadequacies, and he hurts for her, hurts for the way her hands are shaking and her world is collapsing, and three months ago, he would have kissed the fears away, and told her that he would protect her, but that was before. Before her body betrayed her and silence became her new best friend, so instead he wipes away the tears quietly.

"It's okay, Kor," he whispers, "Zaheer is in jail, and he's not going anywhere, and we're all going to make sure of that; you're going to be okay."

_It's a lie because how can she ever be okay again._

Her breathing evens as the world slows down, and everything centers around the way Mako is grasping her hands, tethering her to the world, until she can almost forget Zaheer's voice, _almost._

"Let's get you cleaned up," he says, and it's then she notices the sheen of sweat coating her skin, and the way everything about her feels dirty, violated, so she nods, and he pulls the blanket off of her, picking her up bridal style, surprised at how light she seems in his arms; she stares straight ahead, reluctant to make eye contact as her hands wrap around his neck because she wants to do things herself again, she wants to walk and soothe her nightmares away on her own, she wants to go back to the way things were, god damn it.

_Silly how all she ever wanted was to be a good Avatar, and now she's just useless._

He walks slowly, careful not to bump into any walls as they make their way silently to the bathroom, her clothes cling like a second skin to her body, and it's humiliating to picture herself like this. He sets her down too carefully on the counter, afraid to break her anymore and grabs a wash cloth from the closet, wiping down her face gently and pulling her hair to the side to clean off her neck. His hand lingers for a second because this is familiar, and maybe he still cares so much more than he admits.

He sets down the cloth and fingers at the hem of her shirt, hesitating for a second, before she nods and raises her arms, the fabric unsticking from her skin, and a blush crawling up her cheeks because she's never felt as inadequate as she does now.

He takes her in, eyes trailing the bruises that he didn't notice the first time around, the way her ribs have turned black and the scars are starting to pucker, and no part of her has been untouched; he wonders what horrors her wrappings are hiding.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, eyes fixed on a point somewhere above his shoulder.

_I'm sorry for waking you up and for breathing fire in your face and for making you worry._

_I'm sorry I dragged you into this._

_Because we both know life would be easier without me around._

"No," he says, " Don't be sorry; you saved the air nation, and you risked your life, and you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

_She doesn't really believe him, but she nods anyway._

He wets the cloth again, and focuses on cleaning her torso, being particularly careful not to put too much pressure on the places that are turning yellow. She still flinches and he shoots her apologetic looks before turning her body slightly and wiping down her back and shoulders, her body shudders under his touch, afraid of what he'll do when she can't see him, and it's sad, really, because they used to touch each other like lovers, and how can so much change in such a short time.

He helps lift her a little so she can slip her bottoms over her hips, exposing her wrapped legs, and scars, so many scars because even the avatar state doesn't come without repercussions, and _what has this world done to you, Kor._ He avoids the bandages and wipes her down as gently as possible before fetching her a new set of clothes and helping her redress.

_Do you remember when things were okay? Back when my body was whole and my head was straight, and I let the world convince me I was strong enough?_

_Do you remember how I loved you, Mako?_

_Do you remember?_

_._

_.._

_._

_Me neither._

He carries her back to her room and lays her down on the bed, afraid she'll shatter courtesy of Zaheer, and even though she doesn't ask him to, he sits in the chair by the bed, and out of habit he pulls her forward and kisses her cheek lightly, a gentle reminder that she is loved.

She doesn't look at him as she grabs his shirt and pulls him under the covers with her because honestly she's just desperate to feel something, anything, and Mako's body pushed up against hers is as good an option as anything as she faces him and finally, _finally_, looks into his eyes and sees the sadness buried beneath ocher because this isn't her, this poor excuse for a girl isn't the Korra he remembers, and how dare the world rob her of everything she thought she was.

She guides his hand to her waist and curls into his chest, and he understands better than anyone what she needs as his fingers grasp her waist and his other hand strokes her hair because _you've been so brave, Korra._

_And he whispers in her ear how proud he is, how proud the world is, and that they still need her, he still needs her more than she could ever imagine._

_._

_.._

_._

_He whispers until sleep overtakes him, and his body curls instinctively around hers._

_._

_.._

_._

_And she watches the ceiling and counts the stars and listens to his breathing, anything to avoid another nightmare._

_._

_.._

_._

_Because medicine can heal the wounds, but it can't kill the demons._

…_.._

A/N: So I couldn't not write Makorra angst after that finale, like come on, that was heartbreaking! This will potentially be a two or three shot depending so stay tuned and stay fabulous!


	2. Chapter 2

The nightmares don't stop, not really, if anything they get worse as her subconscious tries desperately to destroy herself from the inside out, to hurt herself before anyone else can, and more often than not, she wakes up to Mako's hands gripping her own, tracing patterns into the marred skin because, _it was just another dream,_ and _I'm right here_ as the night swallows her grunts of agony and the darkness ebbs to nothing more than an inky comfort.

Habits form before they have time to contemplate the implications as she pulls him by the shirt collar under her covers and lays her head heavily against his chest and lets his heartbeat impale her, remind her that while the dreams may not be real, he is, and she is, and together, they are. He never asks her why; he just lets her listen and wipes away stray tears that find refuge in her expanse of chocolate eyelashes, and then she fakes sleep when the morning inevitably comes and he's forced to pull away, lest Tenzin discover him there. She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends that she didn't spend the night examining the burnt edges of his heart as he pulls her in and kisses her forehead lightly, kisses her with the intention that the world never see, that she forget the past and sleep.

_Please sleep, Korra._

Eventually, the bruises fade, and her legs begin to work again, and almost miraculously she finds herself crossing the room in calculated, unsure steps, gripping the bed post like a lifeline as she remembers how to walk: _funny how easy it was to forget in the first place_. And the doctors say that her recovery is coming along wonderfully, that before she knows it she'll be saving the world again, like all good Avatars do, and _it'll be just like before, right Korra?_

_Yeah, Ikki…_

_Just like before._

But if she's really healing like they say she is, then why won't the bags under her eyes go away; why does she still hear Zaheer's voice in the back of her mind; why is sleep still a chore?

_How is it that her memories are slowly killing her?_

And after three months of firm bed rest, though her muscles still ache from lack of use, all that really remains of the battle are the imperfect scars littered across her skin and her heart and her head, scars that nobody can figure out how to heal.

Sometimes she finds herself pacing instead of sleeping, feet mindlessly tracing patterns into the floor, until Mako cracks her door open, and grabs her shoulder and forces her to lie down, to rest her body and her mind, even if she doesn't plan on sleeping.

_She wants to tell him to leave her alone._

_But they both know he's not going anywhere._

_So she lets him talk her down._

Other nights, she sits cross legged on the edge of the bed and relives every moment of her life, from learning the elements, to probending, to Amon and civil wars and watching her father fall, _fall, fall_. Sometimes all she can see is the ways she has failed; sometimes reality is harder to face than nightmares. These are the nights Mako leaves her alone.

_And even though her body is healed, her mind is still breaking._

_._

_.._

_._

Eventually, they say she can leave the island if she pleases, because_ really, Korra, it'll be good to get out._ But, honestly, she feels no inclination to expose herself to the world because the last thing she needs is paparazzi questioning her, and what if they see right through her façade, just like Zaheer had, because no matter how hard she tries, she's always been far too transparent for a world that operates on smoke and mirrors.

Despite her unwillingness, despite the fact that her world is still crumbling around her, she lets them- Bolin and Asami- convince her that going to a probending match is a good idea, that getting out of the house would clear her head, but she knows what's going on, they just want to fix her; they want to believe that healing her is as easy as leaving the island. She hears the way they whisper about it when they think she's not listening.

_They just don't understand._

And she doesn't want to go, not in the slightest because she still hasn't had a night without terribly vivid dreams, and her mind is stuck in the past, but she's sick of seeing nothing but unnecessary pity in their eyes, and if this is what it takes to convince them that she's not a lost turtleduck then that's what she'll do.

_It was a dumb idea from the start, she realizes too late._

Because there are so many people, and even with Mako standing less than a foot behind her, she still feels like she's drowning in a sea of voices and every time she turns her head there's someone else looking at her and _isn't that Avatar Korra?_ Mako tries his best to guide her, to lay his hand gently on her shoulder and keep her mind there_, stay with me, Kor_, trying desperately to keep her in the moment, and they almost make it to their seats, the four of them, they are so very close…

_Hey Avatar Korra!_

And then a bulb is flashing two inches from her face, blinding her as the world halts, and all she can feel is death breathing cloyingly down her neck as her hands light up and her body coils, and suddenly the man with the camera is trapped like prey between the Avatar and the wall. Part of her knows, logically, that this man is no threat, that he is merely a victim of her madness, her body still screams at her to kill, to spill his blood before he gets the chance to spill hers, and, really, she would have done it if not for the hands yanking at her shoulders and pulling her back, away from the terrified man and the horrified glares and Asami's sad green eyes.

Her initial instinct is to struggle to scream and pull and fight because in her mind, those are Zaheer's hands on her shoulders, and he's back, back to kill her, to poison her, to drain what little life she has left within her, and _why the hell did I let them convince me you couldn't find me?,_ because here he is now, and Spirit's know how long he's been waiting in the back of her mind to pounce.

"_Let go of me, you Bastard!" _

_._

_.._

_._

But the arms are stronger than her, at least stronger than she is now, as they drag her writhing body out the doors, into the cool fall air and grab her roughly by the shoulders before flipping her around, and she freezes when she sees his face because the eyes looking back at her aren't gray and cold, no, they're amber, deep and warm like honey, and the world stops and her breathing hitches as she realizes what just happened.

"_I would have killed that man, Mako," she states._

_The lack of emotion in her voice is terrifying_

_Because when did she become the monsters inside of her._

And then she's grabbing her head in muted confusion because this is wrong, this isn't who she's supposed to be, she was raised to protect people, not to destroy them, so why did the idea seem so right, why was she so numb to the reality of the situation, the reality that she was mere seconds away from slaughtering an innocent man.

_But still she feels no regret._

_Truthfully, she feels nothing at all._

_And it's scary because she used to care too much._

"You didn't mean to-" he starts to say, but he's too slow and before he can finish, she's yanking demandingly on his collar and capturing his lips in a desperate plea.

_Because who am I anymore?_

_Help me feel, please._

_Help._

_ME._

And he must sense it, sense the desperation burning against his skin as she backs him hard into the wall and loses herself in the planes of his muscles and begs him to burn her raw because she's just so cold, so he obliges as he grabs her hips and pushes his body roughly into hers and lets her take what she needs.

_Because I'm yours ,Kor; I have always been only yours._

And it's not long before he feels them, the tear drops against his face that burn his skin, and before he can help himself, he's cupping her cheeks lightly and pulling away and staring into the depths of her eyes, and _tell me what you need Korra, tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it._

_I'd do anything._

"_Take me away."_

She doesn't have to ask twice as he grabs her hand and pulls her behind him, and they're running, running, running, away from the arena and the shouts and the lost souls looking to comfort themselves with the success or failure of others, running like the teenagers it's so easy to forget they are, running until they're both out of breath and they've left the city behind, until they are knee deep in Yue Bay and she's surrounded by her element, the moon only feeding her soul.

_And she can't remember the last time she last felt so very alive_.

And she's more beautiful than he remembers, as she summons the water to her fingers, and the tendons curl like vines around her as she laughs happily and damn, when was the last time he heard her do something like that. He's tempted to watch her all night, but, eventually, he finds himself wading into the water behind her his arms wrapping around her from behind, chin coming to rest on the top of her head as they just listen to the dark, listen to the way the moon pulls at her heart and cries her name in desperate perfection because even though she favors fire, she is watertribe to the bone.

.

_Have you ever heard the story of the moon spirit?_

_._

_The story of the beautiful Princess Yue who sacrificed herself to save the world_

_._

_Who burrowed life from the moon and when it came time, gave it back._

_._

_.._

_._

They hold each other until the sun turns the sky a soft pink and all that's left of the night is the iridescent glow in her eyes as he grabs her hand and whispers that they should go before Tenzin sends the police to look for them, and she follows almost blindly, head still knee deep in the water because she can't remember the last time she felt in control of her own mind, and she's terrified to leave because what if this feeling never comes back, and _why can't we just stay this way forever._

And when they get home, hearts still lost somewhere in Republic City, Tenzin holds her close and tells her not to scare them like that before reminding her, not so subtly that rest is still important. She sees the grateful glance he throws Mako before she walks contently to her room.

_._

_.._

_._

_And for the first time in what seems like forever, the dreams don't come._

_._

_The Avatar rests peacefully._

_._

_And even though everything isn't all right,_

_._

_.._

_._

_A least it's not all wrong._

_..._

**A/N: **Thanks lovelies for all your support on this story, and I hope you enjoyed this second installment. I'm almost certain I'll be doing another part so stay tuned! In regards to this part, I hope everything seemed believable because I never want to seem like I'm forcing anything. Well anywho, reviews and criticism are highly appreciated and help me to make myself better, so if you love it or hate it, I'd love to know why! Stay wonderful!


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